


...you'll find the real thing instead

by aliciutza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, F/M, Failed Marriage Proposal, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mild Hurt/Comfort, New Year's Eve, Panic Attack, an avalanche of feels, but it's like just one small scene and not at all explicit, but the scene is short and is over quickly, i definitely have a thing with trains, strangers on a train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciutza/pseuds/aliciutza
Summary: Instead, he reached for the bottle of champagne, drank some more, then passed it to her. Dany took it. Before she brought it to her lips, she decided on her next question.“So what are you doing on the last train of the year to King’s Landing?”“Isn’t it technically the first train of the year?”She shrugged, “It was the last train of the year when I boarded.”Her reply seemed to amuse him. But as fast as the twinkle in his eyes returned, it was snuffed out. He got to his feet, dug something out of his pocket and sat back down.With trembling fingers, he pushed an object in her hands. Dany exchanged it for the bottle and scooted on the bench till she was by the large window.... or a heart to heart between two strangers on the last train on New Year's Eve. At least they have champagne.Inspired by 'champagne problems' by Taylor Swift
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 67
Kudos: 227





	...you'll find the real thing instead

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!!! Thank you for sticking with me during the year that shall not be named. I appreciate each and every reader I get, even if you decide to stay a silent lurker 💖
> 
> Full disclosure. I wrote this the day after ‘evermore’ came out, as ‘champagne problems’ was an instant favourite. Wrote it in one of those fever dreams I sometimes get, so it’s been waiting in my Google drive for a while now. However, since I was also working on 'our souls, intertwined', I had to decide which one to post for the Jonerys Advent. Eventually I kept this one for today, since this fic is centered around New Year's Eve/Day. At least that's how the events of the song played out in my head. 
> 
> I cannot express just how much I love this song. I think I've listened to it daily since it came out.
> 
> And I know what you're thinking: but Alice…this song is hella sad. Yes yes we've already established I love a good sad song, and a good cry. 
> 
> And in spite of being told that my angst-o-meter is broken, I still think that at its core, this fic has a message about hope, as well as a happy ending. And it doesn't hurt as much as you('d) think.
> 
> Without further ado, Jonerys champagne problems...with a twist. Sort of? 
> 
> Oh and if you're not a TS fan, I still think you should give the song a try, to get the full effect. 
> 
> Enjoy xx

Dany jolted awake as the train shrieked to a halt, her body being pushed forward then falling against the backrest. The cheap leather bench gave a puff in protest.

She dragged her left hand over her face, the night's events coming back to the forefront of her mind like an avalanche: slowly, then all at once with the violence of the past three years of repressed memories and blindness.

Frozen in place, unlike the frenzy that had pushed her body just mere hours before, her lungs burned, begging her brain to breathe, her muscles to relax, and not look back.

A sob might have finally escaped her throat. She supposed she should be grateful for the respite, but there were no tears wetting her cheeks. Her eyes fitted across the train coach—empty besides herself—bathed in only the lights coming from the small station they were currently stopped in.

She’d gotten away.

Far enough to not have to constantly look over her shoulder. Safe enough for her body to have fallen in exhaustion and succumbed to a short dreamless sleep.

It felt almost like relief—a feeling she definitely hadn't experienced in years.

In less than twelve hours she would be in King's Landing. She wondered if 2500 kilometres were enough between them so that there would be minimal repercussions to her actions. She didn’t have the mental space nor the energy to think of the consequences.

 _Not_ thinking about the consequences had been the only thing that had ensured she survived tonight. She’d find time to decide her next move once in King’s Landing.

Another sob broke through the noise of the train engine humming back up to life. The lights scaled back to a dim nightlight.

This time she _knew_ it hadn't been her.

Dany stood up. At first she only thought she saw something on the other end of the wagon. She kneeled on the bench in front of her. Sure enough, she could see him now: elbows perched on his knees, face buried in his hands, shoulders slightly shaking.

She knew she shouldn't pry. He looked like he was going through something. As was she. But Dany hadn’t been able to cry since she ran out of the house with only her handbag and the clothes she wore—either she was in shock or she had no more tears to cry for herself. The latter might have been true, since she felt drained, clearly the adrenaline long gone from her veins.

The man's body shook violently, his sobs slightly muffled by his hands. The sound tore through her and squeezed her heart.

Although she was on her feet now, she hesitated.

A normal person would give him space—pretend they were asleep, or that they couldn't hear the cries, perhaps even silently slip out of the coach to get away and not have to deal with the awkwardness of the situation.

She shook her head. Wouldn't she want someone to check up on her, had the roles been reversed? The least she could do was offer a paper tissue— _right?_

If he lashed out at her and asked to be alone, she’d give him that.

Dany didn’t have to make up her mind: the stranger lifted his head up from his hands, looking straight at her. He dried his tears with the back of his hand, looking ashamed, muttering something she couldn’t quite hear over the train’s steady rumbling.

She slowly walked up to him, her body swaying with the movement of the wagon. He didn't look at her again, even as she sat on the bench directly across from him. His elbows were still resting on his knees, although his face was no longer hidden in his palms. She couldn't tell if he'd stopped crying.

“Are you alright?” Her voice was raw from hours of disuse after the yelling match she'd engaged in back home. Dany winced— _not home anymore_ —then closed her eyes to block out the memory.

He made a sound between a scoff and a mirthless laugh. He leaned back and stared at her. Moonlight bounced off the snowy landscape and illuminated him enough for her to observe his clothing.

Even in his dishevelled state, his black suit crumpled, the top two buttons of his shirt undone and his tie hanging loosely from his neck, he looked handsome.

No matter how many times his fingers or the back of his hands chased them away, the tears streamed continuously from his red rimmed eyes.

She couldn't stop staring at him. It should be uncomfortable to watch someone cry, yet somehow it wasn’t. He clearly was broken-hearted. Some would argue that so was she—each suffering from different kinds of heartbreak.

She wanted to ask what happened. But asking him about it presented the risk of her being asked the same thing. After all, they were one of the very few passengers on the entire train. Dany wasn't sure she even wanted to unpack the night's events in her own mind, let alone pour her heart out to a stranger.

He stared back at her through long wet lashes.

Minutes passed as they observed each other in complete silence. She squirmed a bit under his scrutiny, wringing out her hands and rubbing her left palm, the absence of the cool metal of her wedding ring a sensation too novel that only just registered with her.

The conductor opened the door between the railcars and stepped through it. He gave Dany a slight nod and continued to the other side. Distantly, she heard the other door slide open and shut.

Her silent companion reached his hand on the bench, towards the side closest to the window. From the shadows, he pulled up a bottle of—Dany cocked her head to the side to read the label— _champagne?_

Without looking at her, he unfurled the metallic foil around the neck, then started unwinding the wire around the cork, his hands steady, eyes trained on his actions. He dropped the rubbish on the bench next to him, then untwisted the cork. It gave way with a loud pop.

Fizzy golden liquid bubbled up and spilled out of the bottle. He widened his stance so he could avoid soaking his slacks, and brought his lips to the neck of the bottle, catching the expensive drink in his mouth. Only very little ended up splashed on the floor. She watched his throat bob up and down with every swallow.

“Happy fucking New Year to us,” he said, his voice almost as raw as hers, extending the bottle to her in a silent invitation.

She looked at him for a moment. At least he wasn't crying anymore. He gave her an encouraging albeit sad smile. Dany dropped her handbag next to her and reached for the bottle with shaky fingers. She took a big swig, trying not to choke on the bubbles that tickled her parched throat. She hadn’t even realised how thirsty she was.

“Happy New Year,” she said once she had enough. She pushed the bottle back to him.

He took one more big gulp of champagne, then set the bottle on the small table attached to the window.

Dany couldn't see a coat or a bag.

“Where are you headed?” she asked, perhaps emboldened by the alcohol.

He looked around, as if he was only just realising himself that he too only had what he was wearing. That, and the bottle of expensive champagne.

“I'm not sure. Where does this train go?”

“King’s Landing,” she replied.

“Then that’s where I’m going,” a corner of his mouth slightly raised up in a minuscule smile. “You?”

“Same.”

For a while they stared at each other in complete silence. As they left behind all the city lights, the light in the train and the moonlight provided more intimacy. It allowed her to no longer feel uncomfortable under his gaze. She wondered what he thought of her, in her black jeans, sneakers, hoodie and an oversized black coat. It was then that she realised that underneath her hoodie she still wore her pyjama top.

If he was curious, he didn’t let it show.

Instead, he reached for the bottle of champagne, drank some more, then passed it to her. Dany took it. Before she brought it to her lips, she decided on her next question.

“So what are you doing on the last train of the year to King’s Landing?”

“Isn’t it technically the first train of the year?”

She shrugged, “It was the last train of the year when _I_ boarded.”

Her reply seemed to amuse him. But as fast as the twinkle in his eyes returned, it was snuffed out. He got to his feet, dug something out of his pocket and sat back down.

With trembling fingers, he pushed an object in her hands. Dany exchanged it for the bottle and scooted on the bench till she was by the large window.

Her stomach sank even before she opened the small black velvet box. With cold hands, she pried it open to reveal a beautiful engagement ring: delicate silver vines braided together to form a setting for the white diamond with black specks.

When she looked up at him, fresh tears were welling up in his eyes.

“It’s gorgeous,” she croaked.

He sniffled. “My mum’s,” he replied although she didn’t get to ask the question.

Dany looked back at the ring—the biggest piece to the puzzle that was her crestfallen companion.

She heard him drink again.

“It’s yours.”

Her head snapped back up to him. He was wiping his face, avoiding her eyes.

“You don’t mean that,” she shook her head.

“Then throw it out the window, I don’t fucking care.”

With one last look of appreciation, she snapped the lid back on the box, then moved back to her previous spot.

Her companion also resumed the position she first saw him in—only this time the champagne bottle was precariously hanging from between his fingers.

Dany took the bottle from him and put it back on the table. She offered him the box back.

“I don’t think I can ever look at it,” he croaked.

She shifted until she was crouched in between his legs. “Take it anyway. Hide it somewhere where you won’t see it. In that drawer we all have in our house, the one that’s full of unimportant shit that we never clean out.”

That earned her a small smile.

“I’m sure one day you’ll get to use it again.”

He scoffed. “Hard to imagine I’ll ever propose.”

“Why?”

“Because she fucking said no,” he said, a bit too forcefully.

Dany knew his ire wasn’t directed at her. She placed the box in his hands and wound his fingers around it. She kept his hands holding the box even when he tried to snatch his hands away from her grip.

“Better an honest ‘no’ now than a million regrets later.” When he stopped fighting her, she let go of his hand and sat back down on the bench.

For a few minutes they reverted back to their initial silence. He played with the velvet box, turning it over and over again. She traced the movements, trying hard—but failing—not to think about how different her life would have turned out had she said no when asked to marry.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He nodded once, without looking up from the box.

🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

Dany must have dozed off again.

She startled awake—her hand flying to her side. She exhaled in relief when she found that her handbag was still where she’d left it.

“We just passed the Trident,” he said.

Dany blinked until her eyes focused. It was much brighter inside the train. The artificial lights were no longer on, since dawn was slowly but surely breaking.

From his bench, her lonely companion was staring at her. She looked around, trying to chase the sleep from her body. They were still the only ones in the coach.

Feeling sore and stiff from the awkward position, she stretched her arms up and rolled her head until she could hear small cracks releasing some of the tension she felt at the back of her neck.

She heard a sharp inhale; her newfound friend was staring at her—specifically at her neck. His aghast expression made sense now.

Self-conscious now, she pulled the hoodie up to her chin and fell back on the seat. Suddenly everything she was running from caught up to her. She couldn't run from the avalanche indefinitely. It was going to bury her alive.

Her lungs burned. She couldn't see, blotches of water clouding her vision. She couldn't hear a thing over the frantic heartbeat drumming in her years.

She definitely felt the warm hands covering hers. She blinked. The water cleared away. He was kneeling in front of her—his eyes full of panic. They were grey. He was saying something but her heart was still beating too fast. Of their own accord, her fingers curled around his. He squeezed back.

“Breathe,” she finally heard.

“That’s it, slowly,” he said again.

He squeezed her hands in a steady rhythm. 1-2-3-4. She focused on that.

“Fuck, I'm a jerk,” he sighed when she no longer felt like she was drowning.

Dany turned her head away. She didn’t want him to look at her like _that_. She'd seen the look on so many people. He'd only met the new Dany. Not the pathetic, scared one. She wanted to be again in the safety of the dim lights.

“I'm so sorry.”

She shook her head even if she could feel the sincerity behind his words.

“You've been so kind to me. Listened to my dramatic arse the entire night. While you—” he sighed.

This time she did look at him.

“What I have going on, it's just—champagne problems. It barely even hurts anymore,” he grimaced.

Dany shook her head again. She didn’t think he was a good liar. “You had your heart broken. It’s not an insignificant problem.”

His eyes flicked to her neck again. “Want to tell me about it?”

She shook her head. She needed him to stop looking at her like she was broken. Well, she was, but she was finally mending herself.

“Can you forget you saw that?”

She could see in his eyes that he wanted to fight her on it.

“Please,” she whispered. “Just for a few more hours. I can still be the nice yet nosey stranger and you can be the tipsy hot dude who dodged a bullet.”

This time he smiled—a real, genuine smile.

With a nod, he let go of her hands and sat next to her, body turned to hers, head resting against the cool worn out leather of the bench, left hand between their bodies, palm up—a silent invitation.

Dany slowly turned to mirror his posture, her right hand resting on the bench close to his. Not yet touching.

He was the first to speak. “So not the pathetic guy whose marriage proposal just got turned down in front of all his family and friends?”

She shook her head. “Just a lonely guy on the last train to King’s Landing.”

“Jon. My name is Jon.”

“Dany.” She shifted her pinkie so it brushed his. Jon was bolder and he interlaced their fingers. This time, they fell asleep together.

🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

When they got to the main train station in King’s Landing, she had a hard time saying goodbye, but she needed to think and sort some things out on her own.

Jon shivered again. Even in King’s Landing’s warmer climate, it was still too cold to be out in only a suit. He told her his sister lived in the city, and mentioned he’d be spending a few weeks in town. They exchanged phone numbers and reluctantly parted ways.

She called him a few days later, once she no longer felt like she was trying to run faster than the avalanche she had created in her life.

When they met for coffee, Jon asked her to let his sister lend her a hand. It turned out that she had some experience with what Dany had gone through. His sister was more than happy to help anyway she could. They'd even become friends.

By the time summer arrived, her divorce was finalised.

Dany reached out to some of her old friends and was surprised to find out that Missandei, her friend from uni—the one that her ex didn’t like and made sure to drive a wedge between them—lived in King’s Landing now.

Life was finally good.

🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

_**5 years later:** _

It had been a last minute decision to spend the holidays up North. Hence why they were one of the few people on the Christmas Eve train to Winterfell.

It was just after midnight when Jon sat up to get his bag only to pull out a bottle of champagne.

Dany couldn't help but grin when she saw the brand. “Is this out thing now, getting sloshed on a train?”

Jon winked at her, “It's tradition, love.”

Their tradition started as a silly thing. The year after the disastrous events that had brought them together on that first train ride, they met again. Jon had moved to King’s Landing, desperate to get away from Winterfell. Dany also got her fresh start. They had kept in touch, but nothing happened between them until New Year’s Eve. Dany knew they both needed time to find themselves first.

When they bumped into each other at the same party, they took it as a sign. Jon stole a bottle of champagne and whisked her away. They watched the fireworks from Blackwater Bay and stayed up until they finished drinking the entire thing. She’d been the one to kiss him at midnight.

Every New Year’s since then, Jon bought the same champagne for them to share.

She watched him now, as she’d done many times for the past years, expertly unwrap the foil and open the bottle. Without glasses, he had no choice but to be the first to taste the sparkly liquid.

He passed her the bottle and sat back down, pulling her into his side.

“We’re a few days early, but since we’re on the train now…it felt appropriate.” She felt him kiss her temple.

Dany drank, then passed him the bottle again. This time, Jon put it on the table between the benches. She pulled back to look at him.

“Remember what you said to me (almost) five years ago?”

“About what?” she asked.

He turned to his side so he could properly look at her. She realised that Jon looked nervous. He reached for his coat that was on the bench in front of them to take something out of his pocket. With shaky hands, he placed in her lap a small black velvet box Dany hadn’t seen in approximately five years.

“You said I’d get to use this again one day,” he whispered, eyes still trained on the box.

Tears welled in her eyes. She knew how hard it had been for him to recover from it the last time. Yet here he was, putting his heart in her hands, trusting her not to break it.

“Jon,” she grabbed his hand. When he looked at her she gave him her brightest smile. He still looked nervous. “Ask me, Jon.”

He swallowed, then took the box from her hands. He kneeled in the space between the benches.

Jon opened the box to reveal his mother’s ring. “I don’t have a speech. But all I really need to say is this: will marry me, Dany?”

“Yes,” the words were out of her mouth as soon as asked his question. “Yes,” she said again as she pulled him in her arms and crashed her lips to his. “Yes,” she said again when he pushed the ring on her finger.

Finally, the ‘yes’ he’d been waiting to hear.

**Author's Note:**

> *hugs* 
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Alice


End file.
